


Temptation

by masterofgallifrey



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Culture Differences, Dubious Consent, Internalized Homophobia, Knifeplay, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Self-Flagellation, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofgallifrey/pseuds/masterofgallifrey
Summary: Ivar and Heahmund grow closer.[Goes AU after s5e5, when Heahmund is captured at York.]





	1. The Tempter

Heahmund had no idea how he’d ended up in this situation. Ivar’s eyes were so blue, bright, piercing, intense. Like he was looking into his very soul. The way he slithered around along the ground reminded him of the snake who had tempted Eve. An apt comparison, he thought.

It had already been a few days, he wasn’t sure of the exact number, since his defeat and capture in York. He’d been subsisting on scraps and had been thrown into a hovel, a cold, dirty, and dingy hovel. Thrown out of the way he’d thought at the time, wrists still bound behind his back uncomfortably. But Ivar had continued to visit him multiple times over the last few days as his army readied themselves for their journey. Their discussions largely revolving around recent battle’s or their, occasionally fiery, religious contention.

He’d found out, though, that righteous fury directed towards one person was quite hard to hold onto. Especially in the face of a combination of his own exhaustion and that person being the only source of human contact and conversation.

The tightness in Heahmund’s bearing had slowly relaxed as he himself had relaxed. It had started out with invasion of space and a few small touches at first, Ivar’s face a bit too close to his when they talked, a hand laid upon his shoulder, his back, his thigh.

So he shouldn’t have been surprised when Ivar, sitting in what had quickly become his usual place next to him, had released the rope from where it connected his bound wrists to the post behind him and pulled him bodily into his lap, rough lips finding his own. Heahmund couldn’t find it within himself to resist.

 

* * *

 

Ivar thrust up into him. Heahmund let out a small groan. He let his head fall forward to rest it upon Ivar’s shoulder, pressing his mouth against the material there and hoping it would muffle the desperate sounds issuing forth from his lips against his will.

Heahmund’s arms were still tied behind his back, thick rope that had been digging into his arms and pulling his shoulders back for days now. Even if he’d wanted to escape at this point, he didn’t think he could have. The lack of food had made him too weak, in mind and body it seemed as he continued to willingly let the heathen buck up into him. Did he really want to escape this, though. He couldn’t quite convince himself of that as Ivar, hands gripping his hips with an almost bruising strength, manoeuvred him up and down the length of his cock.

Heahmund’s own throbbed heavily and neglected between his shaking thighs.

“Do you like that, Christian?” Ivar whispered on a particularly rough downstroke, mouth right up against his ear and hot breath tickling down the side of Heahmund’s sensitive neck.

“N- Fuck.” Heahmund managed to choke out on a gasp into Ivar’s shoulder as he pulled him down again.

He’d almost managed to get out the token protestation, but the sensations were all too much. Any pain he had been feeling was now completely muddled up with the pleasure.

Heahmund grunted as his own cock, free now after Ivar had pushed his trousers around his ankles, which had also conveniently impeded the movement of his legs, brushed against Ivar’s thin, coarse shirt.

Ivar had been steadily getting faster with his movements, his impressive upper body strength meaning he was able to lift Heahmund’s weight repeatedly with little trouble, Ivar’s cock slipping slickly in and out of him rapidly. Heamund gasped, open mouthed, panting into Ivar’s shirt at the feeling.

Ivar stopped. He moved one hand from it’s position upon Heahmund’s hip, up across his his muscled chest, thumb catching a nipple through his shirt, making him moan roughly, before moving further upwards.

He fisted his hand in Heahmund’s hair, pulled his head back a bit, bared his neck to Ivar’s intense gaze. Bright, prickling, hot sparks of pain shot out from Ivar’s grip, travelling down his back, making him shiver, and settling in his stiff cock. Heahmund, almost involuntarily, grinded his hips down against Ivar, his body chasing the friction.

Ivar let out a lilting, high chuckle at Heahmund’s reaction, at the sensitivity of his body. He licked and bit his way up Heahmund’s neck. No doubt tasting the blood and sweat that was still staining his skin and caked into his beard.

Ivar returned Heahmund’s previous movement, grinding his own hips upwards. He released his hair and Heahmund immediately returned to his previous position, hiding his face against Ivar’s shoulder, hiding from that knowing gaze.

Ivar thrust upwards and Heahmund bit into his shoulder, attempting to silence the scream that issued forth from his own bruised and bitten lips as Ivar’s cock brushed against something deep inside of him that sent pleasure, mind-numbing and intense, rippling throughout his body.

As the motion moved him forward his own cock brushed against Ivar’s shirt again, and the twin sensations were enough to finish him, his release landing messily across the bottom of Ivar’s dark shirt.

Heahmund fell against Ivar completely, feeling even weaker post-orgasm, and unable to support himself with his arms still stuck behind his back.

Ivar grunted, thrusting up into him a few more times, hands still gripping firmly at his hips, before he also finished deep inside Heahmund, letting out a low groan of satisfaction against his cheek.


	2. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really only meant to be a one-shot but this weeks episode had so many good Heahmund/Ivar moments in it that I seriously couldn't resist adding to this.

The next day passed by slowly, there was a chilly wind passing through the streets of York that made time drag on and on. 

The sun had just started to dip in the sky when Ivar finally arrived, as Heahmund had expected, and almost dreaded, he would.

Darkness had soon overtaken the town, but the room they occupied remained lit with torchlight.

Ivar placed his hand on Heahmund’s upper thigh, fingers digging into the strong, lean muscle encased beneath his pants.

Heahmund froze. His whole body unnaturally still for a brief moment. Then he flinched, subtly shifting away, shaking off the unwelcome touch.

“Bishop?” Ivar said, his tone shot through with confusion.

He moved his hand away.

Heahmund could see the barely contained irritation in his gaze. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Continue with the discussion.” Heahmund replied gruffly, a surprising steel to his voice that brooked no argument.

He realised too late that such a tone could be interpreted by Ivar as a challenge.

Ivar narrowed his eyes and Heahmund waited with baited breath. To see whether Ivar would push the issue, whether he’d respect his unspoken denial, or whether he would be forced to explain.

Forced to explain something he did not want to discuss, for there was only so much mocking he could take, and he was quite sure he would be mocked for this.

After an uncomfortable beat of silence Ivar shrugged his broad shoulders, visibly letting it go and continuing without question.

“So, if it is as you say it is, and your Heaven is, like Valhalla, a continuing of this life, then why…”

From Ivar’s easy demeanour and continued advances, it did seem like he might have to explain to him the prickle of shame that had slowly worked its way up his spine, across his chest, wrapping around him in tight coils until he could barely breathe as he tried, in desperate vain, to sleep.

How God’s voice had slid into his mind, a whisper. Telling him he’d let down his King of Kings, who had suffered much worse than he without giving into the desires of heathens.

How, as the hours passed, his guilt had grown into a large hulking beast that clung, ever present and heavy, around his neck.

 

* * *

 

He refused Ivar multiple times in a similar fashion over the next few days, before being dragged onto a ship bound for Norway.

 

* * *

 

When Ivar fisted his hand in Heahmund’s hair, in an attempt to silence him before King Harald, arousal shot straight to his groin.

The memory Ivar’s action brought up still fresh in his mind.

He grunted obstinately, and continued with his prayer. 

 

* * *

 

After he drove the knife deep into that savage’s skull, he turned around at the sound of Ivar’s delighted laughter, which rung in his ears. 

Ivar’s eyes were dancing with a stunning blue fire. Heahmund could feel it reflected in his own, the bloodlust caused by death raging through him.

Ivar looked absolutely enraptured.

 

* * *

 

Instead of being taken back to the dark room he had been confined to over the past few days, Heahmund was taken to a much more lavish room.

It contained on large bed, covered in furs, and a roaring fire filled with crackling wood that cast an orange glow over everything.

His Northman escort led him through the door, where Ivar was waiting, sitting on the floor at the foot of the large bed.

“Undo his chains, would you.” Ivar said, addressing his escort.

The man looked at him for a moment, unsure, before he unlocked Heahmund’s chains and removed them.

“You may leave us now.” Ivar waved him away dismissively.

The door slammed shut behind the retreating man.

Heahmund rubbed at his sore wrists absently. It was the first time they had been unbound in weeks.

He heard the sliding, shuffling sound of Ivar moving towards him and looked in his direction.

One of Ivar’s hands clasped around his ankle, pulling and abruptly forcing him to the floor. Heahmund landed heavily, and let out a small, pained noise.

Ivar immediately climbed on top of him, pinned him to the ground, and leaned in.

Heahmund tensed, his whole body going rigid.

Ivar stopped, face a few inches away from his own. He narrowed his eyes.

“What is this? Every time I touch you now, you do this. You enjoyed it last time, no? And yet, now you act like I forced you into it.” Ivar said, emphatic and frustrated.

“I-“ Heahmund visibly struggled for words.

“You _will_ explain yourself to me, Bishop.” Ivar said, voice insistent.

He fisted his hands in Heahmund’s shirt and shook him a little when, still, no answer seemed to be forthcoming.

Heahmund clenched his jaw.

“What we did was… wrong. It must not happen again.” Heahmund managed to force the stunted words past his frozen lips, sounding pained.

“What? How was it wrong?” Ivar asked, voice challenging him.

“Doing that act once was probably enough to prevent me from reaching eternal life. I will not risk it again.” Heahmund said, voice hard.

Ivar paused for a moment, considering.

“Sex?” He finally asked.

“What?” Heahmund replied, confused.

“Your God forbid’s you from having sex?” Ivar clarified.

“… Yes, but that’s not why-“

“Is it just sex with heathen’s, such as myself, then?” Ivar’s tone was slipping into amusement, playing with him like a cat taunting a mouse.

“No. Sex with men.” Heahmund said, the truth finally dragged forth from him through gritted teeth.

“But that is stupid.” Ivar said, simply.

Heahmund paused, mind stuttering to a halt. In a way that only someone who’d just had an integral part of their world view dismissed easily, as if it meant nothing, could be.

“As long as we both have children at some point, then what is the problem?” Ivar continued.

Heahmund found he couldn’t think of a proper answer. 

Ivar, seeing the confused, conflicted, and borderline anguished look on his face, sighed and finally climbed off of him.

He clasped Heahmund’s hand in his own, pulling him up into a sitting position.

“Come, Heahmund, we both must rest. Tomorrow we continue on our journey together.” Ivar said.

Heahmund looked at the bed and paused.

“There is only one bed, surely you don’t expect-“ Heahmund said, getting more and more agitated until Ivar cut him off.

“King Harald wanted to leave you where you were, and would not offer up a room for you, but I would not have such a warrior as yourself remain in those conditions, like you are a slave and not a man fighting beside me. You may sleep in the bed, and I will not touch you unless you wish it, or you can sleep on the floor near the fire. It is your choice.” Ivar said.

Then, using his hands to drag himself over to the bed a few feet away, Ivar pulled himself up and under the furs. He allowed Heahmund a few moments of consideration, and watched him closely as he waited upon his decision for the second time that day. 

Heahmund got to his feet slowly and acquiesced. He moved to the bed and slipped under the soft, warm, grey furs. All the while being careful to keep a certain amount of distance between himself and Ivar, who was lying on his back, still clothed, with his eyes already shut.

He still had dirt and blood streaked across his face, but it didn't matter. This was the most comfort he had been allowed in what felt like a very long time. He was determined to enjoy it, even if just for a moment. He burrowed deeper under the furs and into the warmth they held.

The last thing Heahmund saw before he joined him in sleep was Ivar’s lips twitching up into a small smile.


	3. Freedom?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say thank you to everyone who has commented on this y'all are awesome awesome people and I hope you all enjoy this last chapter.

Heahmund was almost certain that King Harald was hoping he would kill Ivar in his sleep. He couldn’t understand the man, but placing them together like this spoke for itself. He could not deny that the thought of doing so had drifted around in his head that first night, like a moth irresistibly drawn around a flame.

All it would take was a swift blow with Ivar’s own knife, which he had rather carelessly discarded on the floor next to the bed. 

Was it carelessness, though, or a test designed to reveal his intentions. It was impossible to tell.

So Heahmund dismissed the the thought every time it stubbornly surfaced, ignoring the foolish and cowardly urge to have this over with now. For what would be the point. He would kill Ivar, a waste in itself, and then he would die too. Hundreds of heathens would survive him, his sword never to taste their blood.

Heahmund turned onto his side, facing away from Ivar. He tried to calm his own restless mind, all the while doing his damnedest to ignore the small puffs of breath and minute shifts coming from the body that lay behind him.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Heahmund drifted blearily in and out of sleep. He felt cocooned in warmth, and safe in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time. His cheek rested against something solid that moved slightly every few seconds, up and down, up and down. The routine of it continuously lulled him back through the veil of rest.

He shifted, rubbing his cheek against what he was laying on, instinctually trying to burrow closer. Something shifted and he felt himself being pulled closer, something wrapping around him and drawing him in.

He moved his arm up fuzzily and it landed on a chest, a chest he had curled up against in his sleep.

Heahmund blinked, confused. His eyes opened properly and the world began to re-solidify around him. He pushed himself up on one arm and was met with two equally bleary eyes staring into his own.

Ivar’s lips quirked up in amusement. He let out a short, surprised laugh.

Heahmund grunted, dismayed, and tried to slip out from under Ivar’s arm, which was resting around his middle. Before he could though Ivar, making a noise of disappointment, tightened his arm around Heahmund and rolled them until he was situated on top of him.

“And were do you think you’re going?” Ivar asked, eyebrows raised. He was the picture of innocence, if not for the devilish glint in his eye and the continued curl upwards of his lips.

Heahmund moved his hands but before he could grab Ivar and throw him off he managed to snatch Heahmund’s hands and push them back and above his head, fully pinning him against the bed.

Heahmund growled, bearing his teeth. He strained up against him, but Ivar clearly had the superior upper body strength of the two of them.

“I will not be your catamite.” Heahmund hissed up at him.

Ivar's brow furrowed with confusion, before he shook his head and leaned in close, nose skimming Heahmund’s cheek as he rested his lips against his ear.

“I think you protest a little too much. You want me, and I want you. What is the problem.” Ivar said.

He bit at Heahmund’s ear playfully before pulling back again.

As Ivar pulled back Heahmund moved swiftly to unbalance him. He wrenched one of his arms out of Ivar’s grasp, wrapped his legs around Ivar’s waist and used the leverage to flip them.

Straddling Ivar, he looked down on him.

They were both panting from the struggle. Ivar looked up at him, eyes wide and enthralled, his hands settling over Heahmund’s hip bones.

Heahmund leaned forward, it was like there was a string connecting them, red as his own blood, drawing him inexorably closer to Ivar. He rested his forearm’s on either side of Ivar’s head, bracing himself.

Their lips finally connected, harshly and passionately.

Ivar surged against him, returning his fevered kisses with just as much fire.

He bit down on Heahmund’s lower lip and they both groaned desperately into each other’s mouths, starting to move against each other.

 

* * *

 

Later that morning, after slipping out of their room, Heahmund trudged through the village in an attempt to clear his thoughts. The sloppy mud sucked at his feet. He could almost still feel the manacles gripping his wrists tightly, ripping at his skin.

He still wasn’t quite used to being free, even if it was only moderately at the moment.

He’d been wandering for less than an hour when he heard the clacking of practice weapons in the distance.

He walked a little more until he came upon the practice area. It was a large circle, surrounded by a waist height wooden fence that could be easily vaulted over.

At the centre two young men sparred, one of them equipped with an axe and the other with a spear.

Heahmund approached the fence, resting his arms against it and watching the fight with focused interest.

Parry. Dodge. Jab. Swing.

It continued that way until the one holding the spear overreached and was thwacked on the back of the head with the wooden axe in what, under any other circumstances, would have been the killing blow.

Heahmund grimaced as both of them left the muddy arena laughing and jesting jovially.

He felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder tightly and almost started with surprise. Just managing to check his reaction, he turned slowly to look over his shoulder. 

He’d half expected it to be Ivar, seeking him out again after their recent tryst, but he saw it was a large man, unknown to him, with thick arms and a blond braid running down the expanse of his back.

The man pushed a training sword into Heahmund’s hands before turning away and easily jumping over the fence and into the small arena.

While they could not speak the same language the mans actions were easily readable and he took a moment to consider.

Heahmund wasn’t sure whether the offer was friendly or malicious, but it didn’t really matter. This was exactly what he needed, the perfect distraction to draw his thoughts away from other matters.

As he climbed over the fence Heahmund wondered if he would be able to get away with snapping the wooden sword and, accidentally, of course, burying the splintered ends deep into the mans thick neck.

 

* * *

 

Unknown to Heahmund, Ivar watched him from a distance as he vaulted over the short fence. He leaned back and rested against the cold wall behind him, ignoring how it dug into his back.

He watched as Heahmund swiftly dismantled his opponent, glorious and graceful, raining down blow after blow. If it was a real weapon there would be nothing left of his enemy but little, tiny pieces.

He felt a small measure of pride spark within him that he didn’t quite and understand and didn’t really feel like examining too closely.

 

* * *

 

Time moved quickly and inexorable onwards, and by the time the first full moon had passed Heahmund found himself feeling more and more at ease in his new role.

The manacles had been off for over a month now, and he no long felt the phantom’s of them still clinging to him.

His conversations with Ivar over their games of Hnefatafl continually left him feeling less like a prisoner and more like a respected confidant.

It was after one such game, as he stared out of a small window and up at the moon, that he heard Ivar approach him from behind. The metal of his crutches thudded against the wooden floorboards.

“She promises them her love. And her favours, but then she changes her mind, cheats on them, goes with someone else.” Ivar said slowly.

Heahmund heard the sharp snik of a blade being pulled from its sheath.

He could sense Ivar right behind him, so close his breath grazed against the back of his neck softly.

Heahmund flinched slightly as Ivar brought the blade up to rest the flat of it lightly against his cheek, thumb brushing against his beard. He stubbornly resisted any further urge to move.

Ivar moved the cold, sharp metal gently in circles against his rough skin. Heahmund’s breath hitched at the sensation.

“Do you understand what I’m thinking?” Ivar asked, voice lower and more intimate than before.

“You’re thinking that I can’t be trusted. That I will be as fickle as the moon.” Heahmund said as evenly as he could.

Ivar dragged the knife down across his skin in a small movement, still not drawing any blood.

Then he moved in closer until his front was plastered against Heahmund’s back, no space between them.

He could tell that if Ivar wasn’t using his other arm to keep himself upright with his crutch, he would have immediately had it wrapped around Heahmund’s middle, pulling him even tighter against him.

“In my experience, it happens. I would not have anyone else have you, Heahmund.” Ivar whispered directly into the shell of his ear, tone possessive and lips warm against his sensitive skin.

Ivar moved the knife away from him and allowed it to drop to the floor with a clatter as Heahmund turned around to face him.

They were mere inches apart, so close their noses almost bumped together. One of Ivar’s arms rested across his shoulder, and he shifted so that it lay across the back of his neck.

Ivar was looking at him in that way again, like an intense and possessive fire roaring brightly and consuming everything within its path.

Heahmund leaned forward, as he had many times over the past few weeks, and covered the few inches that remained between them, pressing his lips to Ivar’s.

Ivar used the arm across the back of his neck to keep him in place as he went to pull back. Heahmund let himself be drawn in again and let Ivar deepen the kiss, mouth opening, he groaned as Ivar slipped his tongue inside.

“I would not be had by anyone else.” Heahmund said between kisses, voice rough.

Heahmund moved both of his hands to Ivar’s hips and aided him in walking backwards until he could settle against the table they had been playing on earlier.

As soon as both of Ivar’s hands were free one immediately found its way into Heahmund’s hair and the other gripped at his shirt tightly, pulling him in close.

 

* * *

 

That night, after Ivar was definitely sleeping, Heahmund slipped out of his arms and the warmth of their bed. His eyes lingered on Ivar for a moment. His hair was messy, un-braided, and falling across his forehead. He looked relaxed in a way he never allowed himself to be when awake. 

Heahmund forced himself to leave and head out into the mist and the darkness.

He made his way to an out-of-the-way patch of woods on the outskirts of the town they had been staying in. He searched for a while, longer than he needed to, allowing the bitter cold to bite into his skin.

Finally he picked up a fallen tree branch that was about as thick as his own sword with a few smaller twigs still attached and branching off of it. It was, more importantly however, long enough for him to reach his own back with.

He pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it before falling to his knees. A sharp pain shot up through his thighs as his knees collided with the solid earth.

He breathed shakily, fortifying himself, and gripped the branch tightly in one hand.

He began to pray, quietly, and under his own breath.

Heahmund grunted, hissed, and gritted his teeth against the pain as he brought the branch up and whacked it across his own back repeatedly.

The pain soon turned to relief, however, as he felt the burden of his guilt lessened with each bruising hit.

Tears fell from his eyes, mingling with the already sodden earth beneath him, and he finally let the branch drop from his numb and shaking fingers.

Heahmund, hunched over, let out a cry of relief that sounded to his own ears like that of a wounded animal. Perhaps that was what he was becoming now.

He replaced his shirt with still trembling fingers and trekked back into town.

When he finally made it back Ivar was still sleeping soundly. Heahmund moved as quietly as he could as he slipped back into bed, lying carefully on his front.

He looked over at Ivar, who was laying on his side, facing him.

Heahmund shifted closer to him and rested his hand against the soft skin of Ivar’s hip beneath the furs that covered them, returning to the position he’d been in earlier in the night, before he had left.

His soul felt lighter. Not quite as light as he wished it would feel, but lighter than it had.

As he was about to close his eyes Ivar rested his hand on top of Heahmund’s where it lay against his hip. Ivar’s thumb, soft as a feather, stroked across the back of his hand.

Heahmund looked up at him again, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing remained even, and his face remained relaxed.

He allowed his eyes to slip shut. That one point of contact with Ivar distracted him from the vicious, throbbing lines that criss-crossed his back and lulled him into a blissful rest.


End file.
